Serpent's Shadow by Mercedes Lackey

Author:Mercedes Lackey [Lackey, Mercedes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2001-02-22T07:00:00+00:00

"Doctor Witherspoon!" he said, with a charming smile. "Please introduce me to your staff-and give me a tour, if you would!"

Head Nurse Sarah Pleine smelled "wealthy donor," and her normally cheerful face was wreathed in smiles when Maya made the introductions. So did the rest of the night staff-Jeffry, the orphan who ran errands and slept in the garret, George, the man-of-all-work and porter, and Patience, Sarah's daughter and assistant. Maya let them think just that; who knew, it might even be true, for Lord Peter showed no impatience on his brief tour, and even asked a few pointed and pertinent questions about the operating costs of such a clinic.

"Some of our expenses are covered by a group donation-all the London newspapers put together a common fund, which is why this place is called the 'Fleet Clinic.' And once a year, they organize a subscription fund for us," Maya explained. "But that only takes care of some basic needs. I don't receive anything for my services, for instance, and neither does Amelia; the only paid staffers are our anesthetist, the nurses, and the porters."

"Still, it's better to have the papers as your founding sponsors, I would think," Lord Peter observed. "Isn't there less interference about who 'deserves' treatment this way? And I should think it highly unlikely that members of the press would find drinking and smoking as objectionable as some of our worthy clergy do." His wry smile made Maya and Amelia laugh.

"Oh, the myth of the Deserving Poor-" Maya replied. "As if we bothered to ask if a man screaming in pain was a regular churchgoer and subscribed to the Temperance Union!" The more Lord Peter said, the more she liked him; it was such a relief to meet someone from the upper classes who really had a grasp of how things stood in the East End. Where cheap gin numbs the pain of the joints of a man who has been working too long and too hard in the damp and cold-where "Sunday outfits" linger in the pawnshop until Saturday night, and if there is no money to redeem them, then there is no way to go to church-

"Well, as a rule, I don't go subscribing to charities unless I know that they aren't wasting my donations on hymnbooks and tracts," Lord Peter told them, with a definite smile on his thin lips. He didn't say anything more, but when he reached into his breast pocket and brought out his notecase, then took Maya's unresisting hand and pressed several notes of large denomination into it, she stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

"But I didn't-" she managed, trying to grasp the fact that he had just given her the equivalent of a months' worth of operating expenses for the clinic.

"I know you didn't, which is why you can count on the Almsley fortunes augmenting yours from now on," Lord Peter said, with a chuckle. "Meanwhile, this should purchase you a few necessities. I shan't bother to suggest anything; you know your needs better than I.

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